


Slice-O-Life

by DeathjunkE



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 07:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various 25 word snippets of H/R Love</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slice-O-Life

The Player

 

“Now don't be sad, love. Ron is a chess player. He’s looking ten moves ahead and forgets to see what’s right in front of him.

 

 

Cold Feet

“Ron! If you keep doing this I’m not letting you top anymore!” Harry’s harsh pants echoed through the hall. “Now take off your socks!”

 

 

 

The Games We Play

 

“You know why,” Harry snapped while turning from his sulking lover.

 

“Please Harry?”

 

“No.”

 

“Just one game! I promise.”

 

“No.”

 

“Please!”

 

“God, I hate stripchess!”

 

 

 

Outcome

 

It was intense and blinding, the perfect orgasm.

 

Harry flopped back, “I love stripchess.”

 

Ron chuckled tiredly, “and to think you didn’t want to play…”

 

 

 

Religion

 

He was just so full, so hot, so hungry for the touch rough fingers and slick tongue. “Oh God.”

 

“Why does he get the credit?”

 

 

 

Seeker Training

 

Smack!

 

“OW! I’m sorry!”

 

Ron gazed at the reddened rump before him.

 

“I don't care if he was Krum, you kiss no one but me.”

 

(I’ve always wanted to spank Harry, but I think Ron would have a problem if I did.)

 

 

  


Loved

 

Ron left hickey necklaces on Harry’s neck so that when he returned to that hell at number four he could remember that he was loved.

 

 

  


Eyes

 

His eyes were green like fresh cut grass in a Heineken bottle held up to the sun, the purest green I had ever seen.

 

 

 

Title: Year Two

The whomping willow beat at the car mercilessly.

When one branch came barreling towards Harry, Ron dove forward ad knocked him to the leather seats.

 

 

His mother's voice boomed and his face was burning, but he focused on the hand on his forearm. Harry wouldn't desert him because of a howler.

 

 

 

Dad,

Lockhart's a git -- and he's stupid.

What does Mom (and Hermione) see in him?

He's always picking on harry too.

That guys a moron.?

 

 

 

Ron looked at the rotted potroast and sighed, that had to have been edible once upon a time.

Death day parties just weren't on.

 


End file.
